


Never Nothing

by Wayward_Gurl



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Abuse, Childhood Friends, Childhood Trauma, Demons, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Gen, Memories, The Fade, Verbal Abuse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-23
Updated: 2017-05-24
Packaged: 2018-11-04 03:09:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10982106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wayward_Gurl/pseuds/Wayward_Gurl
Summary: The Inquisitor and his party are stuck in the fade during the siege on Adamant. While trying to find their way back, a Spirit of Misery assaulted them and took control of the Inquisitor. Now, it’s making him relive his past while everyone stand in the side lines to watch his memories unfold. The companions soon learn their illustrious leader had dealt the worst cards of life and why he wants Anders on trial.My rendition of Maxwell Trevelyan’s past. A Force Knight Enchanter.





	1. Chapter 1

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They traveled through the muck and gunk of the fade after they were saved by the Inquisitor when they were falling off a cliff. They avoided landing on those sharp rocks from below Adamant, though some started to wonder if that was a better fate than the fade.

Anders sighed. It didn’t help with Justice’s dislike of this place, constantly arguing in his mind. Not only has that irked him, but the Inquisitor, Templar-loving mage, hated him to the core for starting the war and killing the cleric. Other than the cold shoulder, everything was tolerable.

“Ugh… giant slugs again,” the Iron Bull complained but that’s not what most people were seeing as their giant nightmares came after them.

“Slugs? I’m seeing maggots!” Dorian complained as he threw fire at the humongous wiggling insects that were crawling rather fast at him.

“Pfft! Spiders are scarier--not that I’m afraid!” Hawke exclaimed as he cut down the nightmare creature.

Then the Inquisitor, Maxwell Trevelyan, charged in and shot out his staff, hitting the central chest of the monster and a burst of pressure exploded from the end of the staff, erupting the chest cavity to open, killing the creature instantly as it turned into nothing but muck.

“Less talking, more hitting. Yes?” It was more of a demand than a request, then he added to everyone’s amusement, “fucking spiders. Why does it have to be fucking spiders?”

Alistair the Warden responded, “Right? Why can’t it be unicorn or rainbows once in a while?”

All in all, Trevelyan was a well-revered and respected individual, and how can there not be anyone that would like this guy? Other than the enemies of course. He hardly cause any conflicts nor did he hate anyone, even Hawke claimed how awesome the guy was…. Until he and Anders met, and the Inquisitor wanted him put on trial if not for Varric and Hawke’s interference.

Anders can only draw the conclusion that it was because of what he did, and he could hardly blame him, though the Inquisitor’s anger towards him seemed more personal than justice (no pun intended).

They were down below the pools of murky lakes and once more they were attacked by more demons accompanied with the little nightmares.

“Augh! They’re endless!” Cassandra shouted. They were getting tired. They were already fighting in Adamant and now they have to fight here in the fade.

Trevelyan only encouraged. “We’re almost there at the rift! Just keep fighting!”

“Well, let’s not forget the two-story humongous spider that’s blocking the rift, I’m assuming,” Varric pointed out. “I’d hate for the story to end there.”

Solas then noticed something off as they finished off the little nightmares. “Wait…! Something’s wrong!”

The green fog around them started turning grey and it was churning thicker and thicker, weakening the visibility around them.

“This is not good!” Hawke exclaimed as he reached out, managing to grab Varric and Anders.

Then they started to see a shadow flickering about in the thick fog, and they could hear an awful shriek echoing around the smoke-like fog. Then Justice took over Anders as he called out to warn the others, “Do not look at it in the eye! Whatever you see, do not believe it! Strike it down!”

Everyone was now worried as to what it was, especially when the spirit shouted out such words. Then Cassandra had gotten a little taste of it when her former lover came out of the shadows.

“…Regalyan…” She said, seeing the man standing there.

The mage looked at her solemnly. “Why…? Why did you let me die, Cassandra?”

And her heart crushed at those words, but everyone else saw that it wasn’t this Regalyan. Solas discern what spirit it was then he fired a flaming spell at the creature and the illusion dispelled, showing the spirit of misery. It pulled away, screeching, disappearing in the fog.

“Everyone stay close!” Alistair called out and they were looking for one another, and when they spotted each other, they got closer. Somehow the fog was separating them and the creature was picking them off one by one.

“Bull!” Dorian called out. “Where’s the Inquisitor?”

Bull’s brows raised in a panic state as he looked, seeing that the man had disappeared from his side, and everyone soon realized that, looking frantically for him. To add to their horror, they no longer see or hear the miserable creature.

They cannot lose him, not here, Solas thought. He was their only way out and their only salvation from Corypheus.

The ancient elf drew his staff and casted a spell, using almost all his mana as he dispersed most of the fog. Not too far away, they found the Inquisitor, but they found him just a little too late.

He stood there, completely paralyzed and what Iron Bull could discern as extreme grief on his expression. He had never seen the Inquisitor make such a face… the look of someone who lost everything. Whatever it was that the Inquisitor was looking, the misery spirit had him in its grasp.

Then the creature thrusted its claw right through Trevelyan’s chest, and he choked, gasping.

Panic ensued.

“ _INQUISITOR!_ ” Cassandra yelled, running towards him with her sword and shield. They all ran for him.

When he was just within reach, charcoal smoke dispersed around him and the demon, blinding everyone and knocking them all out in a deep slumber.

.

.

.

“Is everyone alright?” Solas asked as everyone started to wake from the warm grass.

Cassandra groaned, sitting up, “Ugh, what happened?”

Hawke was close to her and he helped her up on her feet. Most of them were still feeling a bit of vertigo. “We… I think we were in the fade.”

“The Inquisitor!” Dorian gasped and they all looked around, seeing no sign of him. He couldn’t have died. He can’t have…

“Are we…? This isn’t the fade is it?” Alistair asked as they were in the middle of a country side. He could see an estate not too far away and some farm lands and grape vines.

Where were they?

“Help! I can’t get down!”

They heard the voice of a little boy crying out for help and when they turned, they saw two more little boys running over to a tall tree. They looked about 12 and 10 as they stopped at the tree, looking up and there was another little boy. He looked about 6 years old.

“Max! What have you gotten yourself into now?” The 10-year-old asked, crossing his arms.

“Max… This couldn’t be, could it?” Cassandra asked, turning to Solas, wanting answers. The elf kept a straight face as he and everyone else watched this scene. This scene that happened to be his past memories.

“The kite got stuck! I got it down but now I can’t get down…!” Little Max said, and there were tears in his eyes, deftly afraid. This was actually very cute, Dorian thought, though he was still confused why they were even looking at this.

The older one inched closer and he gestured his other brother to move out of the way. He then held his arms out. “Just drop down. I’ll try and catch you.”

Max looked down unsure. “Nnhh… It’s too high, Elliot.”

Elliot coaxed him in, “It’s not that high.”

“Elliot, you’ll be crushed,” the second brother pointed out. “Should we get papa?”

Then the older one snapped a bit, “No, we’re not getting him, Ron. Just let go, Max! I promise I’ll catch you!”

After much deliberation and trust, Max finally let go and as promised Elliot caught him, and they both fell on the grass. Then the others couldn’t help but hear the crunching noise when they landed and Elliot crying out in pain.

“Elliot! Are you alright?”

“I think I broke my arm!”

“Hold on! I’ll get Nana!” Ron said as he ran off to the house while Max tried to help his older brother who had saved him.

“Are we…seeing his memories?” Hawke asked. “This is an invasion of privacy, and I’m a little glad it’s not my memories.”

The Iron Bull grunted. “Weren’t we just fighting a spirit of misery or something? Why are we here?”

Everyone turned their heads to Solas, and the elf had a very serious expression. He spoke, “I believe… the spirit is making the Inquisitor relive his past, and we were caught within it. Now, we’re spectators until Max finds a way to break out of it himself. There’s nothing we can do but stand and watch.”

They let that information sink in and before they could surmise what they were seeing, the whole background shifted and changed. Now they were in a bedroom with young Elliot in bed with his arm being tended to by this Nana, they assume. Ron and Max were right next to him.

Then an older man walked right in and he looked furious. “What happened?”

“Nothing happened! I fell, Papa. That’s it.” Elliot said, and the others were taken back. Why was he lying?

The Father crossed his arms. “You just fell?”

Nana, the elven maid, spoke, “Boys will be boys, My Lord.”

“I know my boys, Vera. Now what really happened?” The man wasn’t just looking at them, but he was glaring at Max as if he was at fault, but how could he have known? Or does he always blame the child misfortunes?

They were about to find out as Max bravely stepped forward. “…I-It was my fault. I was climbing a tree a-and I got stuck--”

“Max..!” Vera reached out to grab him but stopped when the Lord Trevelyan gave her a cold glare and she lowered her hand.

“I couldn’t get down, so Elliot helped get me down--”

“And so it’s your fault?” The father asked taking a step towards to the little boy and the others moved, only to stop, realizing that there would be nothing they can do.

“I didn’t mean to---I—!!”

_SMACK!!_

Again, they moved, flinching as they helplessly watch the small child---their future Inquisitor---slam right to the floor after the father delivered him a merciless backhand. To his credit, he didn’t start bawling but he was restraining the tears. They could see the right side of his face all red, and surely bruises would form.

To their horror, Lord Trevelyan didn’t stop there. He grabbed a fistful of Max’s hair who whimpered and started dragging him out of the room.

“MAX!” He could hear his brothers’ crying out, but there was nothing they could do.

The background shifted as the companions could only stand there and watch. The Lord Trevelyan dragged him down into the winery cellar and into a closed off pantry with no light and they could hear the little mice scurrying.

Then he threw little Max into the enclosed room on the damp stone floor.

“This should teach you a lesson, boy! To not be such a _nuisance!_ ”

Then the Lord slammed the door shut and darkness shrouded room.

“No!! Papa! Not the dark!!” Max cried out as he ran to the door, banging and crying frantically. “Papa, I’m sorry! PAPA! _PLEASE!!_ ”

And the man cruelly walked away, not hearing the cries of his son. Cassandra couldn’t take it anymore as she rushed over to the door, grabbing the door knob only for her hand to slip through.

The seeker stepped back. “Wh-what..??”

“This already happened Seeker…” Solas finally spoke, having trouble finding his voice after what he had witnessed. It was…shocking to them. “...Like I said… there’s nothing we can do but watch.”

“..Shit…” Varric muttered as he couldn’t believe what he had witnessed. None of them did.

“ _PAPA!!_ ” This was their Inquisitor…? Growing up as a child?

Cassandra stepped back, watching the closed door as the little boy continued to bang against it before finally giving up, resorting to curling up on the ground, wrapping his arms around his knees and crying helplessly in the dark.

“…Maker…have mercy…”

Little Max continued to sob until he fell asleep.

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	2. Chapter 2

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They see memories passing by, blurring by the hour and by the day after what they had witnessed the young inquisitor thrown into a pantry like a cellar.

“Had he ever told you about this, Cassandra?” Dorian asked.

Cassandra turned to him aghast. “W-What?”

The Altus just smirked at her. “Oh please, we saw the secret meetings and how he gave you flowers, and you _swooned_.”

“Oh, I don’t swoon.” She said with a tone that left with no argument but the others just smiled knowingly, which made her grunt in disgust. After a moment, her expression softened and answered, “And no… he never told me this, though he did tell me he never got along with his father.”

“That’s quite the understatement,” Varric commented. “If I didn’t know any better, that Lord Trevelyan hated his son to the core… Wonder why…”

Finally, the days stopped blurring and they weren’t sure how time had passed. Perhaps just a couple of weeks? There wasn’t the backhand mark left on his face, but there was a deep bluish bruise under his eyes.

The others just showed signs of disapproval. The kid was growing up with bruises from his father.

Little Max walked through the door, and the background shifted to him entering a large library and longue room.

He took interest to the painting—a giant portrait—displayed in the family room just above a buffet table set with finely crafted candles. The portrait contained his parents, his older brothers once younger, himself as a baby, and another man just standing right next to his father. They seemed close...

“Max…” They heard the softest voice unimaginable and a woman with the fairest skin, long golden locks and blue sapphire eyes came into view.

She reached out, pulling him into a hug and Max didn’t resist, turning to her and hugging her, though he let his interest known to her.

“Mother, who is that man?” he asked. “He’s on the portrait, so he must be important. Why haven’t I seen him before?”

Mother. This was the Inquisitor’s mother.

The mother looked up, frowning. “…His name was Malcolm… He died, fighting to protect his home village from bandits raiding them… He defeated the bandits, but the wounds were too great.”

Max tilted his head. “Ohh… so he’s a hero?”

“Hehe… The best one.”

“Who is he to father?”

“…He and your father were brothers—well, sort of like brothers. They grew up together and were the closest of friends.” She explained, then she looked at her son closely. She made this sad face as she reached out, touching her son’s cheek, seeing the bruise under the eye.

“What happened, Max…?”

Max turned his face away. “Nothing, mother. I fell.”

“Why doesn’t he tell the truth?” Hawke demanded. It was irritating him slightly.

Alistair looked at him then he gestured. “Take a look at the mother’s face, Hawke. I think she already knows.”

“Maker’s balls. That’s even worse.” Worse, because she wasn’t doing anything.

It was a silent moment between the two, until the mother made him face her. “Hey, can I tell you a secret, my son?”

Max blinked at that. “A secret?”

“Yes, there’s this… great power within you, Max,” she began to say. Did she know he was a mage? What was she talking about? “And you only need to follow just a couple of cardinal rules, my sweet.”

Max seemed eager at that as he turned to her. “What? What would that be, mother?”

“…Always be kind, Max. You must always be kind. You must have compassion, loyalty, and courage. Courage is most importantly,” she said, smiling warmly. “Oh… and you must have love and faith in the Maker. Trust in him. And I promise things will be better…”

“…Alright, Mother.”

The others fell in silence as the mother pulled away suddenly, coughing harshly out of nowhere.

“Mother?!” Max asked, panicking, and the mother tried to speak, but she just kept coughing. “Help! Someone! Papa!”

It was a minute before the Lord Trevelyan came right in, and seeing his wife, he rushed over to her and carried her. He was walking out of there with her and Max was about to follow. He saw that and he yelled at him, “NO! You stay back!”

Max whimpered as he stepped back, seeing the cruel hatred look on his father’s face.

That cruel look lingered, and it showed how much the father really hated the child with the fury slightly burning in the rim of his eyes. “…You are _nothing._ You hear me?”

Max looked crush as the father just walked out of the room. He lowered his head, unable to understand why his father hated him...

Then… He looked back up at the portrait, seeing this Malcolm closely. He noticed something as he reached out, raising his hand, and he was looking...

Suddenly he had an epiphany, now staring at this man on the portrait with realization.

At first the others were confused, but the few caught up.

"Oh... he knows...? He can't have known just like that." Cassandra said, mostly surprised how smart the child was, or maybe it was that obvious.

"The Inquisitor is too smart for his own good, but at least he's no fool..." Dorian commented though he wondered if it was even a good thing.

Hawke didn't get it. "What? Did I miss something?"

Varric raised his brows at his friend. "Really? You don't see it?"

"See what?"

"Look at the portrait closer, Hawke.  Which two seem misplaced?" Alistair helped him out and Hawke discern the portrait a little longer before realizing...

The Lord Trevelyan, his two sons: Elliot and Ron, and his wife were all fair skinned while Malcolm had a dark contrasting skintone meant for the sun. Max also had a darker skintone, matching the man, and now that they thought about it, Max resembled this Malcolm more than the Lord Trevelyan.

Solas stated the obvious, just to make sure it stuck to Hawke’s brain. “The Lord Trevelyan isn’t his real father… and that cruel man knows that Max isn’t his son, but the son of the man he once called a brother.”

“Well… shit…” Hawke sighed.

Varric frowned. “I’m more worried about the kid—about our Inquisitor. Chuckles, you said he’s reliving it? All these horrible moments? I mean… Our Inquisitor had realized that he’s a bastard son at such a young age. That does things to a kid’s mind.”

“…Why worry, Varric?” Solas asked him as time once more was blurring before them. They see the older brothers trying to play with Max, but the little one just shook his head and went away to play by himself. It was heart breaking to watch, but… “…Our Inquisitor came out just fine. This is just the past.”

For a moment, everyone was reminded of the Max they met. Courageous, kind, compassionate, and loyal. He even has faith in the Maker, though not religiously as Cassandra would have liked, but it was enough.

Solas finished. “His mother is a big influence on him.”

“Was.” Cassandra corrected, frowning. “…He…told me she passed away from an illness. That Ron…”

They were now seeing more time passed, and they see the brothers still trying to play with Max, but soon they gave up.

“That Ron. He’s currently Bann Trevelyan,” she explained to them.

“Not the first? What happened to Elliot?” Varric asked.

Cassandra sighed. “…He never mentioned Elliot to me.” She was a little hurt about that because she spoke of Anthony to him. Did he and his brother had a falling out that he wouldn’t mention he even existed?

Then to their horror, the memories played at the most terrifying scene.

The Lord Trevelyan was brutally kicking Max against the wall. Again, there was nothing the companions can do, but helplessly watch. Cassandra didn’t like feeling helpless.

“You _worthless!_ Good for nothing! Little _bastard!_ ”

Then, the two older brothers came running down the stairs, shouting for Max. Elliot ran and he leaped at his father’s back to bite his ear. The Lord Trevelyan snarled and he grabbed his son and threw him away. Ron got there to grab the kicking leg but even he was just pulled away and thrown back. It was chaotic, and it seemed like Trevelyan was trying to kill Max.

“Maker’s SAKES!” Cassandra yelled, unable to look at this any further and Dorian grabbed her, pulling her into an embrace.

Then the Mother came with a vase and she smashed it right on the Trevelyan’s head. The vase came to pieces, but the Lord still stood there. He turned to his wife and he backhanded her hard.

She fell to the ground. “AH! …C-Calan…?”

Elliot and Ron crawled over to their little brother, who was unresponsive, though his eyes were open it was in a daze. The Iron Bull couldn’t help but see that the child had given up. He knew that look anywhere. It was like a horse getting stuck in muddy, sticky place and instead of fighting, accepted its fate to die. It was hard to see that.

Lord Trevelyan was furious. “This is your fault… all your fault. Sleeping with Malcolm—you think I didn’t know?!” He asked her. “Look at that _THING!_ He is not my son, he is nothing--!!”

She forced herself to stand. “You said you forgive me! You said you would love him anyway--!”

“I _CAN’T,_ Martha!!” He snarled. “All I want to do is kill that _thing!_ ”

“NO! No, Cal!” Martha sobbed aloud. “Please… please don’t do this…”

“…You betrayed me… _He_ betrayed me…” Trevelyan said then he turned back to Max and the older brothers just held the little one protectively.

“Calan, NOO!” Martha screeched as she lunged for him.

It was chaos now as the two fought physically and obviously to their hopeless situation, the father won, pinning the mother against the wall. He started to choke her.

“Papa stop!!” Elliot yelled as he rushed over to try pry his father’s hands off of her mother.

“Shit. Just… Shit...!” Hawke expressed. Maker, did he want to throw a fireball at this monster.

Anders, in the meanwhile, was processing everything he had seen. He had thought wrong of the Inquisitor. That he was a closed circle mage and was able to get visiting rights from his family. He thought the Inquisitor was one of the few lucky mages that got benefits because of nobility. There was a lot of things that he didn’t know about him and he was finding them out now.

Everyone present was finding it out.

“Let her GO!”

They were surprised to see Max standing, battered, bruised, and bleeding. He wiped off the blood from his temple as he glared right at this man he called ‘papa’.

Lord Trevelyan dangerously faced the little boy as he shoved Elliot back and he let his wife go. She fell down to the ground, coughing and gasping for air.

“Or what…? You little monster… demon…?” He asked then he took a step towards, “Soon you’ll be nothing. Not even a memory.”

Then, red lightning charred momentarily all over the child’s body, and those who saw that felt instant dread.

“No…” Hawke managed out.

The child’s hands were engulfed in this red aura and for once, the Lord Trevelyan was afraid of him. His little hands reached out.

“You want me to be a demon!?” Max yelled.

Then, the cruel man was held up in the air, his arms outstretched and they were only getting pulled farther and farther apart to the point that he was now yelling in pain. His mother and his brothers watched helplessly in horror at this sight.

“You want me to be a monster, Papa?! You have one!” He yelled. “AHHH!”

With all his strength, he ripped his father’s arms apart and blood sprayed everywhere before the armless body was dropped to the ground. It twitched and jolted before it was no longer moving with all the blood leaving the body and pooling on the wooden floor.

Blood magic.

Dorian could hardly swallow what he just saw. Max---at six years old---had used blood magic. How? What? When did he develop magic first that he was able to know that blood would make him powerful? He was six years old—SIX. That _age!_ He thought himself as the youngest to have magic at 10 years old, but here was Max just six and was able to tear the arms off of Trevelyan with blood magic.

It could have killed him, but no he was standing there, panting heavily.

Then Martha the Mother choked and swallowed a scream.

Max seemed to have come to his senses as he tried to approach her. “Mom--”

“STAY BACK!” She yelled at him and she pulled Elliot into her arms. Ron also ran over to them, joining the protective arms of her mother. “You… You… _M-Monster!!!_ ”

Max recoiled visibly then he seemed to realize what he had done. He looked down to see his father dead and the blood on his hands.

He realized his mistake.

No words can be said about this as the memories blurred. Templars had come with a cell carriage and they dragged a struggling Max into it. He was bound my mage bane shackles and yet he still fought.

“MOM! Mom! I’m sorry!! MOTHER PLEASE!” Max was yelling and again the companions couldn’t take this anymore. These memories were making them miserable. “ELLIOT! RON! PLEASE!”

No one came after him as he was taken away.

Soon, the background changed and they watched as Templars dragged a struggling Max down in a cellar. They then tossed him in a large, damped cell with rats skittering about. Max seemed to have given up from fighting now but still he rushed to the door where only light came in. The cell had no windows.

He watched as he saw two men talking. One looked like a mage and the other a knight.

As for the companions, they realize that this was the First Enchanter of Ostwick and the Knight Commander talking.

“Knight Commander Mayne, he is much too young for the rite of tranquility.” The First Enchanter argued. “If we do it too him now, he will die.”

Mayne didn’t seem to agree. “This child is a menace, Ernault. A demon. An abomination. Do you know what _it_ did? It murdered a loving father.”

“Loving, my arse,” Bull commentated and the others agreed.

“It has to be stopped.” Mayne said.

“ _It_ is a child… With our guidance, he can become something else,” The First Enchanter Ernault said.

Mayne shook his head. “Not risking it. That thing will stay there until it is old enough to be given the rite.”

“B-but that will be years--!”

“Then years it will wait! Locked in that cell room! No one—and I mean no one lets him out. My orders are final!” The Knight commander said with finality before leaving the room. Ernault, the old mage, just sighed. He looked back at Max’s cell then he turned away, leaving the boy in the dark.

The doors closed shut from the down the hall and Max pulled away from his metal cell door. He went over to a tight corner and curled up once more. He looked at his hands, and though the blood was washed off of him, he still felt dirty…

Little Max sighed, wrapping his arms around his knees, and told himself, “I am a monster…”

It crushed Cassandra’s to hear that and the memories blurred before them. They never let the boy out of the cell room and just handed him food from under the door way where there was a little door to let the food tray in. Otherwise, he was stuck there in the cell with no sunlight, no contact, complete isolation with just rats to keep him company, and a cot with a dirty blanket to keep him warm.

Anders just suddenly laugh, and the others turned to him, rather irked.

“…Is there something funny about this to you?” Cassandra demanded, walking over to him.

“Hahaha… he asked me why I blew up the chantry. Why I started the war… He knows why, he’s living in it! He _lived_ in it!” Anders said, snarling. “A prison! …And yet he chose to save the Templars and spare them rather than the mages at Redcliffe!”

 “Blondie, not here.” Varric said as he tried to get him to stop.

“NO! That lousy, lying fucking hypocrite—Oof!”

Varric had seen it coming when the Seeker locked and loaded her fist, though he didn’t stop it as it would already be too late. It connected the face and the hermit mage was sent to the ground. When it looked like she was just going to continue murdering him, they intervened pulling her back.

“How dare you, you know nothing about him!!” Cassandra yelled.

Anders only got up as Hawke pulled him up. “And you know nothing about me! He knows nothing about me! Your Inquisitor is a fraud!”

Hawke then pulled Anders aside. “Stop! Enough…! Now is not really the time to kill each other. We’re supposed to get out of here!” He said. “We’re in the fade, people! Have we forgotten that?! … You there, Chuckles! Is there any way we can get out of here, or help the Inquisitor get out of this trance?”

Solas gave him a look nefore he glanced around. “…No… Though, I should think, the demon will tire eventually. If it does, it will be when the Inquisitor would hear our voices. We’ll know his hold is faltering.”

Hawke sighed. They had been talking all this time, but the little Max never shown any hints that he heard them. In fact, he probably never heard them.

Solas breathe out uneasily. “For now, we must continue to watch.” He honestly didn’t want to see anymore of this, and it only seemed like it was getting worse.

The blurring memories slowed down and it showed a templar retrieving a food tray from the door but the food was still there, half-eaten by rats. Max didn’t eat. In fact, he was curled up in the cot, shivering and looking half-dead.

Little Max had fallen ill.

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End file.
